An Awkward Conversation
by Yel Ashaya
Summary: Weyoun pays his favourite person a visit: Damar. The Vorta is in need of some advice, which Damar finds out underneath the layers of insufferable smiles and snide remarks. Why would Weyoun go to Damar for help? (NO SLASH). Chapter 2: Weyoun considers Damar's advice and is struck with a sad realisation, causing him to question his true loyalty.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I think Weyoun and Damar's weird relationship - if you could call it that - was one of the best things about DS9, so I decided to write something that would involve a mentionable amount of conversation between the two of them.**

**I would appreciate reviews and comments; DS9 fanfiction is not really my forte.**

**This is set in season 7, around 'Til Death Do Us Part and Strange Bedfellows. **

Weyoun walked about the corridor in odd circles and considered a multitude of various things. He covered his face whenever a Jem'Hadar happened to be plodding past, careful to be as discreet as he found to be possible.

He continued to hover outside the room for quite a lengthy amount of time.

"Well, well," a loud, annunciated voice declared.

Weyoun blinked several times and then turned around to come face to face with Gul Dukat.

Dukat chuckled quietly to himself. Weyoun wondered what exactly the joke was. "What are you doing skulking around here?" Dukat enquired questioningly.

Weyoun cleared his throat, uncomfortable. "Dukat?" he asked, slightly startled by the Gul's presence there. He rarely came to Dominion Headquarters. He realised that Dukat had asked him a question. He had no real desire to spark a conflict between the Dominion and the Cardassian Union, so he started to answer the Gul's inquiry. "Oh," he began uncertainly. "I was just... thinking."

Dukat raised a slightly unsatisfied eye ridge up in response to that. "I'll leave you to it," he replied after some time, with an amused smirk on his sharply featured face.

Weyoun rolled his eyes as Dukat turned away from him and went on his way.

Fearing that someone else may walk past, Weyoun keyed in his own personal command code into the commpanel that was situated on the side of the door that was in front of him. He reminded himself to thank the Founder for giving him a lot of high class security passwords and access codes.

After a fraction of a second, the door slid open with a loud, disruptive whoosh and Weyoun entered the room.

The dull coloured chair swivelled around and the Vorta was greeted with Damar's smug face. "What do you want?" the Cardassian wearily demanded

Weyoun took note of the nearly finished bottle of Kanar which was grasped firmly in Damar's reptilian hand. His purple eyes darted around the room a little bit. "I have come to you for advice," Weyoun, rather shyly, declared.

Damar burst out laughing. The sides of his mouth curled upwards in a very amused grin. "You have come to me... for advice?" he inquired, quite rightfully disbelieving the clone's true intentions.

Weyoun nodded slowly and firmly. "I wanted some impartial advice," he elaborated simply.

Damar poured himself another glass of Kanar and scowled in drunken frustration when the bottle ran out of the thick, strong liquid. "Oh," Damar exclaimed with mock horror. "How rude of me. Would you care for some Kanar?"

Weyoun shook his head with an easily discernible amount of disgust. "No," he sternly replied, making a contemptuous face. "I can't stand the stuff."

"I really think you ought to," Damar, nonetheless, pressed. He stood up from his chair and went over to the replicator. He ordered it to make another bottle of Kanar. The item appeared, as well as another glass. He set the other glass on the desk and poured the Kanar into it, handing it over to the annoyed Vorta.

Weyoun took the glass and studied the distasteful liquid with suspicion. "You're lucky the Vorta are immune to the majority of poisons," he informed Damar, with contempt in his voice.

Damar chuckled to himself, and took a swig of his drink. "Cardassians don't believe in _luck," _he quietly remarked with annoyance.

Weyoun finally stopped examining the Kanar as if it were some kind of absurdity. He brought the glass to his lips and gulped a few mouthfuls down. With revulsion, he shoved the glass back onto the severely designed table. "Oh my," he exclaimed. "That is quite repulsive."

Damar had now finished his sixth glass of the stuff. He downed the last one in one. "Now," he said defiantly, spreading his hands on the table. "What is it that you want?"

Weyoun's oddly coloured eyes flickered about the room.

Heavily, Damar sighed. "You're going to have to tell me," he said, with measurable weariness in his voice. "Because I can't think of one suitable reason as to why _you_ would come to _me_ for help."

"Not _help,_ as such," Weyoun finally spoke, becoming a little uncomfortable with the excessive silence. "More like... _ideas."_

Damar raised an eye ridge. He began to pour another glass of Kanar. He gestured for Weyoun to be so kind as to shed more light on the situation at hand.

Weyoun swallowed hard. "Are you married?" he blurted out.

Damar set the Kanar bottle down and studied the Vorta with amusement. His amusement morphed into confusion. "What?" he asked, hoping that he had heard wrong, though he doubted it.

"Are you married?" Weyoun repeated the odd question.

Damar seemed frozen. "I..." he broke off, sounding and looking uncomfortable.

"You're not?" Weyoun enquired, appearing to get more and more intrigued as time went by. "You haven't managed to catch the eye of some beauty?"

Damar wondered if that was a compliment. "I am married, yes."

"Oh," Weyoun said simply, but he had more things on his mind. "... I wonder how your wife feels about all these lady friends you've been entertaining lately." Weyoun just couldn't help himself; the Vorta were very curious.

Damar glared at Weyoun sharply. He took another swig of his Kanar. "She... does not know," he said, his voice tight.

Weyoun frowned. What Damar had said didn't make much sense to him. "Why have you not told her?" he asked, his tone of voice betraying innocence but Damar wondered if there was more.

Damar only frowned. "I- I couldn't-" he began, but kept stopping and starting. He loved his wife and his children.

"Do you not... love your wife, Damar?" Weyoun enquired, with great levels of intrigue.

Damar's hand tightened around the nevertheless sturdy glass. He closed his eyes, opened them, focused on the Vorta sat before him. _"Of course _I love her," he muttered through gritted teeth.

"Then why are you inviting so many other women to your quarters?" Weyoun asked, an eyebrow raised, but he had ceased leaning so close to the desk, obviously fearing what Damar would do to him.

Damar swore under his breath. He ignored the scathing look Weyoun have him in response. He could think of no way to explain it to Weyoun. "You are a clone. You wouldn't understand."

"That is where you are wrong," Weyoun corrected him. "I am very well informed of how to attract a mate, mating rituals, and sexual interactions."

Damar swallowed, but his throat caught. He drank some more Kanar. He needed it. "Are you thinking of telling my wife?" he finally asked sheepishly.

Weyoun enjoyed having Damar somewhat in his power. His mouth twitched into a smile, but Damar highly doubted the Vorta's intentions matched the action. "I am far too busy to occupy myself with something as trivial as that," Weyoun finally remarked.

Damar breathed a sigh of relief. From now, he would not look at another woman. He did love his wife and the children they had together, but as the years went on, his wife had grown more and more distant from him. Damar even thought she might have been having an affair. Plus, it wasn't easy. Being the Leader of the Cardassian Union had brought a great many swooning women to his door, not necessarily by his request.

Weyoun interpreted the Cardassian's silence as a signal for him to continue. "I asked you all those questions," he explained. "Because I am looking for a wife."

"The Vorta can't love," Damar retorted. "Anyway, there's a few more stages before marriage."

"By all means, fill me in." Weyoun have a suggestive wave of his hand.

Damar straightened his uniform. He decided to put the precious Kanar away for the time being. There was no telling whether or not he would get so drunk that he would lash out and punch the smug Vorta, so he thought it best if he were prepared. He regarded Weyoun sceptically. "The Vorta have no need for-" he cleared his throat "-love." He hadn't felt love for so long; sure he had experienced lust plenty of times recently, but it wasn't the same.

Weyoun smiled happily. "I am happy to experiment."

"Shouldn't you be serving the Founders or something?" Damar suggested, hoping it would subliminally tell Weyoun to leave him in peace. "They wouldn't take too kindly to a married Vorta."

Weyoun simply shrugged his shoulders. "I am not engaged at the moment." He sighed. "Besides, I think it would be helpful to have a... mate. Companionship and experimentation is always welcomed, in my mind." At that, Damar remembered Weyoun's remark to Ezri and Worf when the two of them were jailed in the same cell. Something about interspecies mating rituals. Damar bristled at the thought.

After glowering at the smug little clone for some time, and realising it would have little effect leading to Weyoun's dismissal, Damar gave in. "Do you even know any..." he trailed off. He didn't know if the Vorta had actual genders, so to speak. "Women?"

"Of course I do. I am acquainted with many," Weyoun answered defensively.

"Very well," Damar said with finality, though he didn't think for one moment that being simply acquainted with someone was reason enough to get married. "Ask the woman whether or not she would accept your advances."

"Sexual advances?" Weyoun enquired, perplexed. But, before Damar even had a chance to open his mouth to answer the uneasy question, Weyoun sent another inquiry his way. "So... I would inquire as to whether or not the female would wish to mate?"

Damar rubbed his head wearily. "Not as such." Weyoun's expression remained as blank as ever. So, Damar continued. "Ensure that you are on good... speaking terms with one another. See if you have any similar interests."

Weyoun smiled. "We Vorta don't have many interests." He then added, after considering, "Except, of course, for the Dominion and rippleberries."

Damar nodded slowly. "Ah." He looked around the room, praying to whomever would listen to make the annoying little Vorta leave him be. "And, you are hoping to-" he stopped, thinking it over "woo another Vorta?"

Weyoun shook his head shyly and seemed to shrink back into his seat. "Not exactly."

Damar waved his hand, signalling wearily for him to continue. "Meaning?"

"At Quark's," Weyoun elaborated quietly. "I met a most remarkable Dabo Girl."

"Dabo Girl?" Damar inquired, obviously amused with the Vorta's revelation. "Are you serious?" He had seen many Dabo Girls; there were fewer females in the quadrant who were more attractive.

"You think I am not capable of securing the attraction of such a woman?" Weyoun enquired, interested and a little hurt.

Damar shook his head. "Well, it takes a... man to win the heart of a Dabo Girl. They are very beautiful."

Weyoun shrugged and glanced at the table, before his violet eyes flickered back up to face the amused Cardassian. "How did you win the heart of your comfort woman?" he finally asked. He thought twice about enquiring the same regarding Damar's wife, not wanting to get struck in the face by an angry, inebriated Cardassian.

Damar's mood darkened. He had not seen her in person in over seven years. Video feeds could never match up to the real thing. He sobered and frowned lightly. "She was assigned to me," he ultimately answered.

"Ah," Weyoun said bluntly. "I am not endowed with such... luxuries."

"What makes you think this Dabo Girl has any interest in you whatsoever?" Damar pressed, wanting to be left alone.

"She kissed me," Weyoun tightly responded.

"She kissed you?!" Despite himself, Damar exploded in a fit of laughter.

"I was standing at the Dabo Table with Gul Dukat and she was the girl at our game. She kissed me with a lot of... passion and then she spun the wheel and -" he broke off, not knowing the word.

Damar guessed, "Flirted?"

"Yes, that's it," Weyoun nodded and agreed. "With Gul Dukat."

Damar didn't find that very hard to believe. Everyone flirted with Dukat; and he flirted with everyone else who didn't. "Then, I suggest you're quick in announcing your intentions to this girl," Damar declared.

"Why?" Weyoun asked, easing an eyebrow expectantly.

"Everyone whom Dukat flirts with usually ends up pregnant," Damar simply replied with a sly smile. Dukat had all but alienated himself from him thanks to the Pah Wraith obsession he had recently acquired, so Damar didn't really care if the Gul got angry with him.

Weyoun nodded slowly, mulling that over in his cloned brain. "What do you think I should do?" He considered for a moment. "She must have considerably more regarding attraction for me, than Gul Dukat, seeing as how she chose to kiss me and not him."

Damar saw his chance of getting some much wanted peace from the troublesome an irksome Vorta. "Go speak to this girl," he offered.

"I regret I must say thank you," Weyoun said tightly as he stood up from his chair.

"If it doesn't go down well..." Damar began, feeling the suppressed laughter starting to brim. "I look forward to meeting Weyoun 9."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I wasn't quite** **sure where I was going with this, so I guess this is the product of spontaneous writing :P**

**The plot line with Kilana was mentioned in the DS9 novel trilogy 'Millennium', I think.**

**Disclaimer: I cannot remember if I have done a disclaimer or not, so here it is: Star Trek is not mine, neither are Weyoun and Damar, sadly :P**

Weyoun wondered if he was doing the right thing. He had not asked the Founder; had not confronted her. But, as he found him asking himself recently, did he even have to tell her? Would she want to know of all his exploits? After all, he was only her adjutant. She was a God; the leader of a brilliant, illustrious cause: the Dominion. Weyoun loved the Dominion more than anything. More than rippleberries, more than kava nuts, and even more than spiting Damar.

He frowned. The Founder obviously had much more important things to do; obviously had prior commitments, and had no time to worry about Weyoun's simple issues. He was only a Vorta. High up in the chain of command, but not exactly possessing massive influence.

He shook his head, as if doing that simple action could clear his head. He decided to retire to his quarters. Once there, he sat down delicately on the couch and looked around the room. Nothing caught his eye. He had already stared out every object of even slight interest in his personal quarters. The Vorta were curious, and Weyoun was very curious, but his mind was too preoccupied to find itself successfully comforted with such trivial things.

Overall, Weyoun was confused. He had never been quite so confused, he didn't think. Of course, he had been perplexed, like when the plan to have Dominion ships come in to the Alpha Quadrant via the wormhole didn't exactly go to plan. He had felt suspicion, well, he still _was feeling_ suspicion, thanks to Damar's conspicuous activities which Weyoun did actually know about.

Rarely, Weyoun had been subjected to bewilderment. He was only a short individual. Thus, many people, both enemies and allies, stood taller than him. That did somewhat... unnerve him. He hadn't been scared as such, but he did have the unpleasant sense of belittlement.

Those emotions, all different sections, different segments of confusion, did not match what he was feeling now.

He sighed, again looked about the room, closed his eyes. The air stilled, but confusion continued to battle with him. It was a sense of alarm, he decided, but only with partial belief.

Opening his purple eyes, he got to his feet and walked around. After a while of pacing, he found the mirror. He looked into it and felt... different when he saw his reflection. Not massively different, but different nonetheless.

He caught sight of his clothes and studied them closely, curiously for some time. His eyebrows drew together in confusion as he plucked inquisitively at the multicoloured patchwork material. With that attraction ceasing to amuse him, he brought his hands up to his head and ran his white fingers through his hair. It was rather thick and impossibly dark, he noticed. But, it wasn't the attributes of his hair that retaining his attention for the longest; it was his eyes.

It was then that he remembered what that Dabo girl had said to him. She had said something about his eyes. Weyoun leant in closer toward the mirror and focused more intently at the reflection of his eyes. Bright, deep purple. No other species - at least that he had met - had eyes like that.

It was times like this that he would curse - to his complete shame - how the Vorta were unable to assess and appreciate aesthetics. Sure, not having the burden of worrying what one looked like and how one would look to other people, had many, many advantages. However, there were downsides, as there so often would be. It made life simpler, and Weyoun knew that. He understood that. The Founders were all-knowing. They had only endowed his people with the most important skills. And, realising true beauty was - for all it merits for both parties - unnecessary in a diplomat. He would _never_ doubt a Founder. Certainly not. Yet, Weyoun _did_ want to experience deeper emotions. Not just suspicion, contempt, annoyance, reverence, power...

Seeing those feminine clothes strewn across the floor of Damar's less than clean quarters at the Headquarters had ignited some sort of spark in the Vorta's head. Some undiscovered spark. Damar had 'lady-friends', as did Dukat. Weyoun, though he did loathe the Cardassians for their carnal ways, did understand the need for companionship. Placing Worf and Ezri in the same cell had been done double reasons. Weyoun had done it, on the one hand, to observe interspecies mating rituals. They had always interested him. However, as he looked back in hindsight, he realised that there was possibly another reason.

Weyoun was not sure about how to proceed with his issue. He left the mirror, and sat back down, literally twiddling his thumbs. A part of him wanted the Founder to call on him; perhaps her gracious presence would manage to set his mind on other things. That was only a small part, though. He wanted to be left alone, but only for a short while, to think. He had done his thinking. Or so he thought.

As Weyoun delved deeper into his mind for recollections on such things: matters of love and companionship and so forth, he found that he was very inexperienced. His second clone did have a relationship with one of Kilana's clones. He didn't know which, and he doubted that he cared. He was only young then. Young and naive. He was sure the relationship was romantic, but the part of his brain that controlled such things was growing stale. In six lifetimes, he had not so much as kissed someone, unless one counted the kiss he had gotten from the Dabo girl a year or two ago.

The other ideas and advice, if it could be called that, were basically made up of the tales Dukat would tell him of his exploits. Well, more like debaucheries. Weyoun shook his head. Dukat was too involved in such things.

Weyoun wondered again. He wondered how to proceed. Of course, he could easily find a female and experiment from then on, but he knew that was against some sort of 'code' and he was in Dominion HQ on Cardassia. Cardassian females were renowned for their aggressiveness, and Weyoun doubted he would be able to endure such things, and that would be even if he could secure one to mate with in the first place. Besides, that Dabo girl that had caught his eye; that had kissed him so sweetly, was not on Cardassia anyway. She would have been on Deep Space Nine, but Weyoun presumed that the safety-conscious Federation would have ordered all civilians to leave the station. Weyoun didn't even know her name. He figured he could probably hack into Deep Space Nine's computer systems and find the staff files for Quark's bar. He would keep that in mind for later. Again, using Cardassian computers to hack Cardassian computers... that did not entirely appeal to him.

The sun of Cardassia was beginning to wane, its poor, orange light fading over the smoky horizon. Weyoun walked to the window of the compound and saw what he always saw those days: the sharply designed, jutting, curved tendrils of Cardassian architecture reaching out to the sky. He abandoned the window and decided to go to bed.

The Female Founder was likely too preoccupied with the illness plighting her race to ask for his help in the near future. Just in case she would call, Weyoun kept the secure commlink between himself and her open at all times; it was imperative at times of dire importance such as this.

That brought another thought to mind as he got ready to sleep. The Female Founder had ordered dozens - if not, hundreds - of loyal Vorta subordinates to death. He had assured he that. He has selected only the best - she was a God, after all - Vorta scientists to search for a cure for the disease in the Great Link, but the Founder had simply ordered that they report their findings and then die. Such an unjust death that would be, Weyoun thought. Their clones would replace them, but it did not make such a happening all right.

He hated to even have such ideas cross his mind, but they did. He didn't want to doubt the Founder, but he wondered if maybe the illness was making her weak. Weak in mind and in judgment. Weyoun shook his head, thoroughly annoyed and even sort of disgusted with himself for having doubted a God's ability.

Whenever one of his own clones died or was killed or deactivated, Weyoun felt something. When Weyoun Six had died a 'traitor', Weyoun Seven did, in a strange sort of way, feel a sense of loss. It was like he was losing a part of himself. And, he wondered exactly how much more of himself he would be willing to lose.


End file.
